Before I Forget
by RustyPaperclip
Summary: She wakes up knowing her Dad has died. There is a robot watching her. There is a tattoo on her chest. She doesn't remember anything else. LW/Charon-ish.
1. Prologue

Note: I don't own anything.  
Cept the story...well, parts of it.

This take place after the ending before the Broken Steel add-on. And it's LW/Charon. LW remains unnamed. Has vulgarities and very minor descriptions of gore.

**Prologue**

Her eyes were sore. As she shifted, her limbs protested, aching and heavy. A soft moan escaped her lips, though she wasn't sure if it came from her. She couldn't recognise the voice laced with pain. Blinking a few times, she saw the ceiling. Nothing descriptive. It was how a ceiling should look. Right? Glancing around, she noticed that the room was bright and clinical, a metal tray of surgical tools lying on a table, a white screen beside where she was lying down. On the wall opposite her were a couple of faded posters. She couldn't make out what they were trying to say.

After lying down a while longer, she slowly lifted herself up, joints screaming. It was then she noticed a figure sitting on the chair. It was a robot. Its head was facing her, dark shiny black staring at her, its hands holding on to a weapon. A shotgun? Was that what it was? A sudden sharp pain shot through her head as a blurry image of someone moved across her vision; a memory? A feeling of panic and fear engulfed her. Her head throbbed. She doubled up in pain as a wave of nausea hit her.

Then someone put a glass of water to her lips. She sipped, letting the water coat her parched throat. When she had enough, she opened her eyes she didn't know she closed. Then she froze. Because the robot moved. It was the one giving her a drink. She stared open-mouthed at it, its black eyes and saw that there was an eye staring back at her.

"Ah, you're awake!" a voice broke the silence. An old man entered the room wearing a long blue coat which reached the floor. She looked around the 'robot' and saw the intricate details sewn onto the coat. Her head throbbed again. The old man had started talking; a tirade of sorts but his voice was miles away. It seemed that her mind was trying to grasp at something but… blank. There was nothing. She stilled when she discovered why that was.

"Who the..," she spoke aloud, her voice unfamiliar to her ears. "Who am I?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She was lying down again. The robot sat beside her, staring at her while a doctor poked needles into her arm. For some reason, the needles didn't hurt and when she asked the doctor about it, he shrugged, saying that it was because she had a high tolerance for pain.

"You're the hero of the Wastes," he murmured with admiration in his voice as he checked her pulse. As if that answer solved everything. It actually gave her more questions. She didn't understand what the wastes meant. And she wasn't sure if she heard him right. Hero? Not bloody likely. Then again, she couldn't remember anything. Doctor had green eyes, she noted, as he leaned down with a light in her eyes, checking to see if her pupils were dilated. She took a whiff of his breath.

"Sugar bombs," she said. He stilled. She stilled. What the hell were Sugar bombs? An image of a room came to her mind where two men lived. One was bespectacled; the other had an intimidating aura. Their room smelt like Sugar Bombs. She remembered that the bespectacled one was a doctor. They must be her friends, or people she cared for because the image didn't scare her. It made her feel safe even though the intimidating one had put a gun to her forehead. In that memory, she felt a warm chest against her back as a hand reached over her and aimed a gun right at the intimidating one's face. They were yelling. Up close, she noticed that their faces were melting; chunks of skin and hair were gone, showing muscle underneath. Then the memory ended and she shook her head. For some reason, she was sure that they were safe. She was safe.

"I had Sugar Bombs for breakfast." Doctor smiled and moved away. And the robot grumbled.

"Did you just grumble?" she blurted. The robot faced her.

"Did you say something?" Doctor asked her.

"I was talking to the robot." At which the robot froze and the doctor laughed. The old man with the long cloak who (re)introduced himself as Elder Lyons entered the room. He watched her get examined as he stood by the robot.

"You have a tattoo on your chest, by the way," Doctor told her. "During the explosion," Explosion? "You were soaked in radiation," Radiation? "The piece of paper you were carrying disintegrated but its contents got 'transferred' onto your skin." Piece of paper?

"You sacrificed your life for mankind. Because of you, the water is slowly getting purified, and being distributed throughout the wastes. Because of you, there is hope once again," the old man, Elder Lyons, enthused, grabbing her hand as got caught up with emotions. Elder had tears in the corner of his eyes. The robot flinched. How she knew that amazed her because she swore he hadn't moved at all.

"I'm sorry Elder Lyons. I don't remember," she apologised, her voice still sounding unfamiliar.

"It's alright. I'm sorry. This might be too soon to remind you. But you saved my daughter as well." With that, he let her go, but the grateful smile he had stayed on his face.

"About that tattoo," she started. "May I see it?" Almost immediately, the robot stood and trudged to a sink where a mirror hung. It unhooked the mirror and carried it over to where she lay, propping it so that she could see her reflection without much movement. What she saw surprised her.

Her pink hair was bedraggled from lying down too long and her skin was unevenly tanned. There was a myriad of scars and weird shaped bruises over her body. Observing closely, she saw a spray of freckles where sunlight hadn't reached to tan, over her shoulders and across her chest. Her chest appeared to have black letterforms.

"Elder Lyons, I think we should give our heroine some privacy," Doctor persuaded. They left, closing the door of the room behind them. She realised she should undress to see more of the tattoo. As she gingerly fingered the material of her undershirt, she met the eyes of the robot that had stayed with her. She wasn't sure what she felt about the presence. She didn't necessarily mind that it was around yet, a frisson of something moved around in the pits of her stomach. After a few minutes of quietly intense staring, the robot turned away and stood guard by the door. She sat up and pulled off her undershirt, revealing her breasts and the black letters on her skin. The words had faded where her breasts curved. But other than that, she could make out tiny words. They were 'terms for employment'. For a 'Charon'.

"Charon?" she said aloud, testing the name in her mouth. Familiar.

"What is it, Boss?" The robot spoke, its head turning to face her.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They sat face to face. Well, face to helmet. She wondered what she should be doing or asking him to do. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

"I don't remember you," she blurted. The robot…Charon didn't do anything. But she believed that he was smirking. His presence was very familiar to her, bordering on comfortable. Yet, she had no idea who he was, apart from his name. "Do you remember me?"

"You are my employer. I serve you for good or ill." Through the black screen of his helmet, she saw his eyes glance down to her chest where the 'tattoo' was. "Till death," he added. He actually sounded a bit sad but she wasn't sure. His voice was raspy and grating yet, oddly gentle.

"Till my death?" she asked.

"I shall endeavour to protect you as best as I am able," he answered.

"Are you my bodyguard?" He nodded. "Do we travel together?" He nodded. "Why are you wearing the helmet?" He grunted.

"Do you wish me to remove my armour?" he asked.

"If it won't kill you," she said. When he eventually pulled the helmet off, she saw the lack of flesh he had. His skin was mostly gone, what she saw was the muscle underneath, threads of flesh and the non-existent nose. Clumps of uneven red hair clung to his scalp; his fringe covered a pale blue eye.

"Does it scare you?"

"No. You were scarier with the helmet," she replied, smiling genuinely. She actually meant it, though. "Anyway, you are kind of handsome in your own way." He froze for sure this time, his eyes wide. "What do we do for a living?" He raised an invisible eyebrow. "I suppose since you are my employee, it means that we have some form of business, right?"

"We shoot raiders, mutants and creatures. Then we loot them." She stilled at the unexpected reply, wondering if she heard right. He nodded confirming her queries.

"You're kidding." He shook his head. "I murder things and I am a hero?" He raspily said yes. Heaving in deep breath, she asked him whether she liked her 'business'.

"Very much so, Boss." She shivered. Great. She was trigger-happy.

"What about you? Do you like what we do?"

"I find happiness in a warm gun." She was sure that he smiled when he said that even though his expression hadn't changed. Great. They were both trigger-happy.

"You don't like it here, very much do you?"

"I don't like the look of this place. But you've requested me not to shoot the soldiers here."

"You want to shoot them?" He was silent. "You don't talk much, do you?" she pointed.

"If conversation is what you wish, then I shall give it."

"I think I will need lots of conversation. Seeing as we seem to spend a lot of time together, you might be the only one who can tell me everything I have forgotten. Even my name. No one remembers it." A heaviness in her heart formed as she felt like she had forgotten something very important.

"As you wish, Boss."

"Have I forgotten something important?" He stared at her in reply. She shrugged her own question off. Suddenly, she felt very exhausted. As she lay down, Charon's form beside her knees, she begged him not to leave, surprising herself with her desperation and the tears that pricked her eyes. She felt such untargeted despair that she closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep. As she drifted off, she felt the blanket being pulled up and covering her body.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Three days after she woke up, she finally felt ready enough to stand. Each time she sat up, a kind of vertigo grabbed her and she felt nauseous. Charon was always around to hold the bucket to her mouth. In fact, he never left her side. Whenever she opened her eyes, his face in all its remains was what greeted her. Not that it was a bad thing. It seemed that she kept waking up from nightmares and his strong presence made her feel safe. The memories were what filled her when she slept. She remembered some things and still forgot some others. She still didn't remember Charon.

This time, when she opened her eyes she vomited into the ready bucket. She didn't feel the vertigo. Just disgust. All she remembered from her dream was a pile of people screaming at her through flames of a fire. They were angry and afraid, their lips bloody and their limbs broken. There was a blonde woman with a huge collar around her neck. She was cursing at her. Were these her memories? Another wave of nausea hit her. If they were, what kind of person was she?

Her head was throbbing, which she was prone to doing after some memory surfaced.

"Thanks," she murmured to Charon. Swinging her legs over to the right, her feet touched the cold floor. She winced. Then in one fluid motion, she forced herself to stand up. Such an act should be heroic, especially for a hero but she was embarrassed to say that she stumbled. She caught herself from falling twice and after standing still for a while, she decided she was fine enough to walk. Which she did without event. Amazing. Charon stared at her as he stood in an awkward stance. "Do you know where I can get clothes?" Charon left the room, putting on the helmet as he did so. As soon as he closed the door behind him, she went to the sink to rinse her mouth, wash her face and stare at her tattoo in the mirror. He came back with a dirty pink dress, which he handed to her. He was also lugging a lot of other things which he dumped onto the bed. Pulling the dress over her head felt a bit homely. Once she was dressed, she noted some blood spatters and stains on the cloth. Ignore it. Ignore it. The blood was caked with something…was that... brain matter? IGNORE IT. Her eyes travelled to the bed and saw the pile of weapons, ammo and other miscellaneous items she couldn't recognise.

"Are these our things?"

"Yours," Charon corrected her. He began by taking apart some shotguns to fix his own. As she watched him, she carefully touched the weapons, some feeling more familiar than others. One rifle that had beautiful, intricate carvings on the side of the metal made her feel like she had found a long lost friend. She strapped it to her back, then continued sifting through the metal, fingers shivering in a form of irrational temptation to destroy something. She wondered if she truly knew how to use these items. The last weapon she remembered using was a BB gun given to her by her father. Father. He was dead, wasn't her? She remembered his face pressed against a dirty thick glass as he told her to run, his skin glowing unhealthily, life fading from his eyes. She shook her head at the memory. That memory, though, didn't make her head hurt; just squeezed her heart and it beat painfully. Charon handed her pouch which chinked when she touched it, together with a box filled with syringes.

Elder Lyons entered the room. Time stopped.

"Um."

"I was wondering if you would be interested in escorting some of my Scribes. They want to scavenge the ruins of Raven Rock for texts," he told them. An excitement bubbled up in her stomach. "Paladin Gunny has already planned for the recruits but your help would be much appreciated. It would be best for your recovery if you were to see somewhere you've been before."

She declined, saying that she wanted to go home. The Elder was taken aback but the almost fatherly smile returned on his wizened face. Yes, she wanted to go home, wherever home was.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

They stared at her with something akin to reverence when she stepped out of the room. It bothered her and made her face grow hot. Charon seemed to be entertained with this though he wasn't showing it. Again, how she knew this puzzled her, but she chalked it up to them spending a lot of time together. Elder led them to a conference room where the meeting halted upon her entrance. Knights turned to look as she stood by the door, inching closer to the imposing figure that is Charon beside her. She felt like screaming at them to look somewhere else or she'd gouge their eyes out and trusting her instincts, she didn't. She did shiver though, because she realised that she would have done it. Having this… amnesia – it felt like she was outside herself, trying to figure out who she was. It was worse when she couldn't recognise who she was, couldn't remember who had given her each scar on her skin, couldn't remember her companion. A paladin stood up and took her hand. Charon bristled, a wave of protectiveness radiating off him.

She introduced herself as Star and praised her, told her that she was like her father, willing to save a world that might turn its back on her. All she had in her mind was the urge to punch Star in the jaw for talking about her father. Her fist shook slightly.

"Paladin Gunny decided to spare some time and accompany you back to Megaton," she added. The word Megaton rang a bell in her head. "It would be good training for the new Brotherhood of Steel initiates."

"I see." For some reason, her tongue wanted to say something along the lines of 'she didn't need to be babysat' but decided against.

"Are you ready to leave?" She nodded and Star escorted her out into the courtyard where another briefing was taking place. Gunny was among them, she assumed. There was a bald man who looked up when they entered the courtyard. A smile greeted her and he waved. She waved back. He then proceeded to throw a plasma rifle at her. The thing hurtled towards her face at an ungodly speed, hearing it whizz as it flew through the air. What surprised her was that she caught it effortlessly, a shriek accompanying the impossible catch.

"Glad to see you're in good shape, kid," he winked before addressing his flabbergasted group of initiates. She was mildly aware that her mouth was open and that Charon was staring at her oddly. A very low curse left her lips as she lifted up the gun.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" she asked, an incredulous edge to her voice. She sounded almost insane, that much she noted. Her companion took her plasma rifle, the one that was inside her bag, took the one she just caught and fixed them quickly and skilfully. She watched as he reloaded her own rifle and threw the latest one on the ground, uncaring. Then he shoved the repaired plasma rifle into her hands. Upon which, she felt scratches on the stock. There were letters carved into it. A3-21?

A jolt of electric white pierced her mind and an image of a man rose to meet her. Dark black hair and dark eyes and a crooked sad smile. A plethora of disbelieving words about humanity and androids came out of his lips like a jumbled mess she almost could see as the image swam in front of her. He pushed the rifle, the very same one into her hands and told her to kill the one who made him. Charon wasn't anywhere in her vision. What do I call you? She had asked. A3-21? Or Harkness? Before he answered, she was thrown into another vision where a bespectacled man was turning blue in the face as she strangled the life out of him. Behind him, an android lay headless, the torn wires protruding from his neck sparking with electricity. Then she threw the strangled man on the ground. He gasped desperately for last breath before she shot him with the rifle, the laser going straight through his skull.

"Charon?" She opened her eyes, gripping onto steel hands that held her. A cold, clammy feeling took hold of her stomach as she replayed the last moments of that vision. It sickened her, especially the part where she felt the delicious thrill that travelled up her spine with the killings.

"What is it?" the harsh voice rumbled, deep in her ear. She was doubled up in pain, hands grabbing her head, willing the pain to go away. Another hand held tightly on to her waist. She didn't know how long she stood like that but when she straightened up, Gunny had an apologetic expression on his face. Charon gave off an air of hostility targeted at the same man even though it was him who had shoved the gun to her. She placed a palm on his armour where his chest would be to make him back off. She felt bile rise up her gullet and she searched frantically for a nearby bucket. Running to find a sink would just make things worse.

"Give me your helmet," she instructed him, her voice weak and shaky. He obeyed, taking his hands off her and as soon as she received the helmet, she proceeded to hurl the contents of her stomach into it. When she was done, her hands were shivering. "Maybe we need to bring along a bucket, just in case," she said. Charon nodded.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was two hours later when they left the Citadel. This was where the Brotherhood of Steel's headquarters were. Gunny, all apologies, decided to be cordial and filled her in with information she might not remember. In some part of her, she was thankful but she still wasn't happy with the way he just threw weapons at her. He had defended himself saying that that was the way he treated initiates after an injury to make sure that they were still alert, still determined. Charon muttered incoherently under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like 'Brahmin load of shit', but she wasn't so sure. He armed himself with his shotgun and walked by her side, without the armour he had worn. For some reason, he actually seemed to be in a better mood once the Citadel's heavy gates closed behind them.

He actually looked better without the ridiculously huge armour with him. She was told that the armour belonged to the Enclave, so if she left it with the brotherhood, they could do some studies on the technology. She 'hmph'-ed loudly, making Charon cast a glance her way. Wait. His eyes were red. She swore they were pale blue just now.

In front of her, Gunny smacked one of the recruits with the butt of his rifle, telling them to stay sharp. She followed them closely, fingering the pip-boy on her arm. When she was lying down, awaiting recovery, she had read through everything contained in the tiny gadget. It told everything yet absolutely nothing. The holotapes her father left, the one with her parents giggling, she listened to it continuously. Just to make her feel safe. Just to make her feel like she wasn't so alone in the world. There were many other holotapes, some she vaguely remembered others she had no idea what they had to do with her. Nothing said anything about Charon. The only thing that was told her who he was, was the tattoo on her chest. The black letters peeked out from under her dress, spelling his name in reverse.

A wandering Radscorpion trio chanced upon them. She was … terrified to attempt shooting at the creatures. She knew from assumption that she might be skilled with gun handling judging from the number of weapons they had and the tendencies of her memories; not to mention the violent streaks she had just bubbling under the surface of her skin. Thinking about it now, just made her sick. Charon, on the other hand, snarled and jumped headlong into the battle together with the steelers. He actually spoke, yelled at the creatures, goading them, playing with them, hitting them with the butt of his gun, as they ignored every other steeler and went for him. Big mistake, you many-legged freaks. A flash of a grin, and her companion obliterated their heads in the blink of an eye.

"That's end of that," he said, satisfaction evident in his tone. He cocked the gun and returned to her side as though nothing happened. Then they continued their journey, Gunny yelling at his 'incompetent fucks, letting a civilian fight their battles for them.'

It was night when they reached the raider stronghold. In the back of her mind, she knew she had been here before. But she vaguely remembered fear as she walked around the area. Her Pipboy told her they were in Springvale, and North of that place was a school. For some reason, the school was marked as well.

A cry for help echoed through the town and the group stopped in their tracks. Tension made the group set their jaws, reaching for their weapons. She just shivered in the anticipation of a fight. Her instincts told her it was coming alright. Gunny silently pointed in the direction the plea for help came from. His steelers followed instruction, heading that way. Her instincts told her it was not a good idea. Still, she followed Gunny as he, two recruits and Charon moved around to the other side. She understood that he was planning an ambush for whatever might be there. The men gripped their weapons as another scream came, but this one was accompanied by multiple shots of a minigun. More screams, yells and threats followed and soon, they were running to the direction where the commotion was.

She saw an old signboard telling her that they had reached the school. A wave of panic came over her, overpowering her irrational need to hurt. When they reached around the side of the building, a battle was underway. From where she was, she saw two raiders were dead; a steeler lay on the ground. Gunny whispered a 'No' beside her before he too was firing shots at the raiders.

The bombs, when they fell had destroyed half of the school, leaving a framework of broken floors and pillars. These remains were what the raiders decided to make into their stronghold. She saw them balancing on the beams as they gleefully shot at their group. A bullet grazed her shoulder. She watched as the blood slowly seeped out. Then, feeling incredibly dumb, she took cover under a rundown stairwell nearby.

As she watched, hidden, she saw that her group was going to win. As soon as she hoped that the battle would end quickly, her hopes were dashed when she saw a pair of double doors open and more raiders left the building. They were the ones, eventually, to be ambushed. The smug smiles of the raiders as they ran forth worried her. Too many raiders. The new group of raiders let loose a string of profanities before gunning the steelers. She sought out Charon's frame amongst the fighters. He wasn't clad in metal like the steelers were and she saw that he was actually bleeding from his shoulder. Yet, her guts told her that he enjoyed this exercise. Too much. A raider caught sight of him and ran to where he was, swinging a long metal pole. She willed Charon to turn, goddammit, TURN but Charon was busy cursing at someone. It was then that a resounding thud signalled the impact of blunt metal to skull. Charon flipped, rolling on the ground as he clutched his head. His combat shotgun landed a few meters from him, ignored by his assailant. Charon groaned, sitting unguarded. The raider pulled out a pistol from his holster, aiming at her companion. She could see Charon lift his head to see his attacker.

"Let's hope you turn out pretty in your next life," he sneered. "Then we won't have to waste your sorry ass."

"Or yours asshole." The head blew to pieces in front of her, as the body slumped, landing atop Charon. A metallic 'ting' echoed in her ear as she turned and saw more raiders heading their way. Out of their own accord, she saw her hands lift and her fingers pull the trigger. Almost immediately, she saw their knees bent over backwards, a flash of horrified pain on their faces. She fired two more shots at their elbows, right one for the female, left one for the male. A spray of blood erupted from the wounds as they both fell to the ground, limbs useless. She picked off two more raiders who were balancing on the beams above, aiming for their knees again as they fell to their death below, screaming all the way. Their screams stopped when they landed, replaced by loud cracks where necks snapped. After reloading, she continued shooting, decapitating some, crippling others, the metallic ting echoing after each shot. It was a mechanical process, one that her body had grown accustomed to. Unfeeling. She was minutely aware that Charon was still sitting there and that was why she didn't move away.

Gunny stopped her from killing the remaining ones who decided to escape. She suddenly felt light headed and dizzy and as she fell to her knees, her palms scratching on the rough gravel. The scratches bled but she didn't feel the pain. Instead, she felt her eyes grow hot and her throat choked with dry sobs. A wave of nausea hit her again but there was nothing left to vomit out. Gunny proposed that they seek shelter in the building. She didn't want to but was too exhausted to refuse.


	7. Flashback 1

Chapter 5.5  
//Flashback//

She towered over Eulogy Jones as he struggled to get away from her. A trail of blood followed him, flowing freely from the holes she shot through both his legs. As he moved, she caught sight of white bone covered with threads of torn flesh in the wounds. She was vaguely aware that he might be crying from the hysterical gibberish that spouted from his lips. It sounded like a mantra or a prayer. As she reloaded her Blackhawk, Eulogy grabbed a grenade and launched it at her. She shot at it as it flew towards her, exploding in the air. A spray of grenade dust scattered on the floor amidst the cry of despair he let loose.

'Do you feel sorry yet, Eulogy?' she asked him, listening to the lack of emotion in her voice.

'Fuck you!' the slaver screamed, trying desperately to get away from her, his legs sticking out at awkward angles.

'Charon, help me hold his hands, please,' she said.

'As you wish, Boss,' her companion obeyed and gripped the slaver's hands. She, on the other hand, picked up a collar from the floor and walked to the both of them. Eulogy screamed continuously, deafening, hysterical screams as he struggled futilely against Charon's grip. As she slipped the collar on him, he shrieked for mercy, tears flowing freely from his eyes. She kicked one of his broken legs earning a howl of pain. With the butt of her gun, she knocked him unconscious. Then she took out her combat knife and cut off one of his fingers to give to Sonora. They left the palace.

Outside, the ground was a tragic painting of blood, broken limbs and crippled slavers who hurled curses at her. The collective shrieking hurt her head as she slowly unlocked the slave pen, releasing the captured. Some hesitated to leave, watching her with fearful eyes. Others thanked her for freeing them, running out of the compound. The two child slaves were especially delighted, telling her that she wasn't like the other mungos and that she should pay a visit to Little Lamplight. As they passed the crippled slavers, they spat at them. They were children, but they acted like mini raiders.

When she made sure that none of the slaves were left, she asked the remaining living slavers whether anyone wanted cigarettes. They cursed at her. Yet, two of them wanted to smoke, sure that they were going to die anyway. She pushed the cigarettes through their lips and they bit down. Their limbs were too broken to control anymore. Broken beyond repair because she had aimed for their joints. Clover glared at her, her lips covered with blood, staining the cigarette between them.

'How about a light, then?'

'You want a light?' she asked, standing up. 'Here you go,' she replied. Then walked away as she set the place on fire. Screams followed her.

She left Paradise Falls with Charon following close behind, throwing the cigarettes onto the ground, the sickly smell of burning flesh filling the air. The smell would lure the families in Andale. If they were still alive, that was.


	8. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Charon," she called, wondering why she did. She woke up with a start, remembering the faces of the deceased in her dreams. Clover. That's who the blonde with the huge collar was. She covered her mouth, trying to quiet her ragged breathing. Beside her, Charon sat up and stared at her in the darkness. A part of his fringe fell forward, hiding a pale eye. It felt like he wanted to ask what was wrong but he didn't. "How is your shoulder?" she asked, trying to keep her mind away from her memory.

"Healed," he answered simply. His face showed no expression but his eyes were worried. She truly shouldn't make him worry. He was an employee and he shouldn't care. Somehow, that thought drained her and she let loose a long sigh. "You have not healed yourself," he pointed to the cut on her shoulder where the bullet grazed her. "Should I –"

"No. Don't bother," she said tersely. "I want to keep that scar." She found that she meant it, yet when he suggested patching her up, a shiver travelled up her spine. Charon stayed quiet as he watched her. She wondered what it was that he saw when staring at her. The silences he had were pregnant with unasked questions or unsaid remarks. "What happened?" she asked, not knowing what she meant by that. Another sigh left her. "Why can't I… I remembered you and me destroying Paradise Falls," she blurted. "I felt… glad killing them."

"They were slavers," he answered.

"It was… merciless, wasn't it?" Another heavy silence followed as she watched him watch her.

"I do not judge my employer's wishes," he paused. "Boss, they were slavers. And that was the reason we killed them."

"No, Charon. I killed them because I wanted revenge for my father," she found herself saying. "I wanted to see the world burn because James decided to try saving it with his project. And for what? Slavers? They didn't deserve to live when my father died for them," she finished her tirade with a sob racking through her body. No tears. Just dry sobs of anguish. She bit down on her lip; hard enough to draw blood, but there was no pain. Charon was still watching her.

"One of my new initiates was a slave. He was seventeen when he was captured and put in Paradise Falls," Gunny interrupted the silence. She was stiff when she realised he heard them. "They beat him every day and raped him every night. When they were bored, they burned his flesh with cigarettes. He talked about a saint who helped him escape by annihilating his captors. A saint, he called her. With pink hair and a ghoul in tow." Gunny took a puff of the cigarette trapped between his fingers. "One morning he woke up to the sound of gunshots and a pile of bodies which were his captors. The saint released the slaves from the pen. He ran, and when he looked back, the saint had set the bodies on fire. The bodies were still alive. At that moment, he understood justice. He decided to fight and become a knight," Gunny finished, flicking the cigarette somewhere to his left. "So, 101," he addressed her. "The way I see it. You saved humanity. Remind me to introduce you to him the next time you visit the Citadel." With that, he stood up and kicked one of his recruits awake. It signalled the end of a discussion.

More silence between her companion and her. She wondered if he needed sleep. She wondered if the wound was hurting. She wondered how easy it was to kill people. She wondered why she was alive when she should have been dead during the explosion. She wondered why she hadn't asked Charon about that. Each time she thought of it, a kind of fear gripped her heart and she decided against asking him. In truth, through all the affectionate, heroic names everyone seemed to have for her, she was a coward. She wondered if Charon knew that. He probably did since he spent every day with her.

"Charon."

"What is it?"

"How did you come to join me?" she asked and a sort of mist covered his eyes.

"You bought me."

"I bought you?" He nodded. "From who?" He grunted, not wanting to answer the question. "Why? Not that I don't welcome the company but…why?"

"Because of the dog."

"What dog?" she asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, she remembered just what dog he was referring to. "Dogmeat," she murmured, feeling an urgency to return home and see her dog. "Gunny!" she yelled. "I'm leaving!"

"Now? It's still dark."

"Screw the dark. Thank you for escorting me thus far. We will visit you in the Citadel someday," she gushed, grabbing her belongings. Charon followed her actions.

"What's the rush?" Gunny asked, incredulous.

"I want to see my dog."

As soon as they burst into the house, Dogmeat bounded after her. She grabbed him, twirled them around and buried her face in his fur. He yipped happily at her return and she wept openly into his fur; proper tears this time. Such forgiveness the tiny creature oozed for an owner who had forgotten about him. She didn't deserve his unconditional love. She felt his bones through his flesh and realised that he hadn't been eating well. A loud sob echoed in the room as she slumped onto the sofa, hugging Dogmeat tightly. "Sorry boy," she murmured over and over. He licked her face in unchecked happiness, barking and nuzzling her as if she was the most important thing in his life. She probably was. She hated herself for not thinking about him enough. Cradling him, she greeted Wadsworth with a 'Good evening' when he said 'Welcome back, Madam'. She got up to her room carrying her crippled dog and fell asleep, holding on to him tightly.


	9. Flashback 2

Chapter 6.5  
//Flashback//

In all honesty, the ghoul standing in the corner scared her. The unreadable face, the armor, the veins she could see through patches of skin: that was the bodyguard. She shivered. Carol nudged her and told her that 'The kid has his heart in the right place.' Yes. She could tell. He just looked like he wouldn't care less about blowing her face up with the shotgun strapped to his back. 'Just has been programmed unlike you or me.' Dogmeat whimpered from where he was cradled in her arms. She whimpered back at him while scratching his head.

He was still healing, she reminded herself, fingering the bandages wrapped around his hind legs. A week ago, he had accidentally walked into a bear trap left by some raiders. She blamed herself for not noticing it sooner, resulting in crippling her faithful companion. Bloodied and frail, he tried to pounce on the attacking raiders, worsening his wounds. She pulled him back, shooting every fucker dawning upon them, even pulling out some mines because with the dog in her arms, she was over encumbered. She had to stumble backwards and eventually she killed them by throwing some grenades, which she didn't like because that was just too messy. Realising that she wasn't skilled enough to heal her dog properly, she decided to leave most of her stuff in an empty metal box in the metro, hoping to come back later to retrieve them.

All she had now was, her Chinese Assault Rifle, her Combat Shotgun, a couple of ammo, a couple of Stimpaks, her last blood pack, all her caps and the sleepwear she had on. And of course, the handsome dog in her arms. Dogmeat licked her face, his big eyes showing a kind of love. She smiled down at him. They had made their way here in fear. She feared that Dogmeat might die and the dog… she didn't really know what he feared for. Occasionally, as they were traversing the metro under the cover of a stealth boy, Dogmeat let out a whine which sounded more like worry than anything. She had to shush him so that the feral ghouls ignored them. By the time they reached Underworld, all her stealth boys had been used up. She must look a wreck because even Willow left her post to help her to the Chop Shop.

That was 4 days ago. Now, Doc Barrows told her that Dogmeat couldn't walk again. 'He can still walk, just not as well as he used to. He definitely can't run anymore.' She bit her lip drawing blood at that news. Beside her, Dogmeat licked her chin. All she had in her head was the echo that she had destroyed a loyal friend.

'We have to get back to Megaton, boy,' she whispered to him. They had to, so that she could keep him safe.

'The problem is,' Quinn pointed. 'Is that you wouldn't make it there in one piece.'

Someone argued that she was 'Hero of the fucking wastes' so she'd make it just fine. She reminded herself to have a talk with Three Dog about the affectionate names he had for her. The reason why she needed a companion was that she had too many things to carry in addition to Dogmeat. Anyway, it'd be good to have someone watching her back.

'You might want to consider the manservant,' Winthrop added. 'He'll do better out in the Wastes anyway.' Who Winthrop was referring to, was Charon, of course, Ahzrukhal's bouncer. The manservant. They'd be like Herbert Daring Dashwood and his manservant, Argyle. She harrumphed. The only other problem was that she had the 'contract' talk with Ahzrukhal as well. And the sneaky bastard wanted a whopping 2000 caps. Up front. For Charon's contract. All she had left to sell, and she could sell, was her sleepwear which she was using as armour. And she'd rather not move around in her underwear things.

'Hey, Winthrop,' she began. 'You mind helping me babysit Dogmeat for a while?' His face lit up even though his expression was passive. See, Dogmeat, had gained some fans in Underworld. She passed her dog over to him and hid a small smile as she saw Tulip, Quinn and a few Ghouls make their way over to coo at the dog. She remembered the first time they both entered the Underworld. Quinn wanted to shoot at her because she was a 'suspicious smoothskin who smelled like a vault' and Dogmeat because 'dogs liked to attack ghouls'.

'Take your time,' he replied.

She kissed her dog before stepping out of Underworld. Squaring her jaw, she decided to loot the Museum of History for things to sell.

After painting the walls in feral ghoul blood and sometimes her own blood, she looted the place. She made a lot of trips to Tulip from this place, cleaning it, selling almost everything she could with the exceptions of several things that seemed to hold historical value. Now, looking at the pile of caps earned she felt halfway hopeful.

She stared at him. It felt wrong that she had to buy someone. And this someone stared back at her with empty, emotionless eyes. He had told her to 'talk to Ahzrukhal' 3 times since the first time she tried to strike up a conversation with him. She was more naïve then, trusting fully in the pristine whites and obsidian blacks that are humans. Now, everything was greyer with the sweet dusting of crimson as she thought of inhabitants of the wastes. And all this happened in a mere 6 months.

Dad was surprised to know how far she'd gone from the girl he raised in a vault. Then again, Dad was never meant for life in a vault. And she now realised, she wasn't either. The first time he saw her shoot straight at a giant radscorpion, he had been in shock, then in awe. Then he stopped trying to protect her so much as they both made their way to Rivet City. She ended up saving his ass a couple more times when he asked her to clear the Jefferson Memorial of super mutants so that they could start working on his project. He was still there now, together with his team of scientists. A corner of her brain was thankful that he would at least be safe in there. Still, when he hadn't been looking, she slipped a pistol into his pocket together with some ammunition. And, the next time she travelled to Rivet City, she reminded Harkness to give the memorial a bit more attention in his patrols.

Dogmeat growled at Quinn who was teasing his ears. Knocking back the rest of the Nuka Cola, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up. She walked to the bar where Ahzrukhal was grinning at her. It was the same kind of grin he had when she and Dogmeat had bounded into the Ninth Circle. He had taken a look at the joyful dog and pointed that 'No pets are allowed in this establishment, unless they were to be eaten,' while behind her, Charon had taken out his shotgun at the gestures from Ahzrukhal. The sight of the tall ghoul stunned her into non-action as she stared horrified that he was aiming the gun at her dog. It was just so fortunate that at the same time, two ghouls saw the friendly creature yipping at them and started cooing at it. Another ghoul had actually brought two more ghouls into the bar to see Dogmeat. Seeing the popularity the little creature brought, he stopped Charon from shooting. To which Charon said 'As you wish, Master,' in the deepest, raspiest voice she had heard. Even coming from a ghoul. It had emotion there. Traces of it. It sounded almost like hate.

'So, smoothkin,' he hissed. 'What can I get you?' Gazing at what was left of his face, she thought that the barkeep used to be charming.

'Charon,' she replied simply, sliding the bag of caps, across the counter. His grin got wider. He took the bag with a broken hand and thanked her. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a thin, yellow parchment. On it was written 'Contract', together with terms of 'ownership'.

'I'll give you the pleasure of informing him yourself.' With that, she turned and headed to the bouncer.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Was it strange that she felt like she was staring at a blank wall? Yet, there was a frisson, an instant when she felt like she might actually be staring at a reflection of herself. However weird she felt, she had bought this being. Buying someone. The concept of it made her stomach turn.

'Charon.'

'Talk to-' he began.

'I've bought your contract,' she stated simply. He stared at her wide-eyed before a kind of emotion; she couldn't tell what settled over his eyes.

'So, you've purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal. That is good to know.' He told her to wait because he had to take care of something. She watched him make his way over to the bar, where he confirmed the transaction with his old master. She noticed that he didn't call Ahzrukhal 'Master' anymore. Such a weight, this paper held, she thought as she put it together with her belongings.

Then in a split second, Charon grabbed the shotgun from his back and obliterated Ahzrukhal. The bit of face splattered onto the wall, an eye staring back at the killer. The rest of the pieces landed on the floor and the fridge. Noise stopped in the Ninth Circle. They all heard the deafening second shot from Charon as he made sure his former master was well and truly dead. More blood sprayed on the wall and counter.

'We can leave, now,' Charon informed her, a kind of satisfaction emanating from him as he replaced the gun. She saw a few spatters of blood on his leather armour and a slight smirk on his face. The sight made her shiver.

'What the fuck…' she asked, breathless. Behind her were hushed sounds of horror as everyone talked about what just transpired. Charon just told her easily that his former employer was an evil bastard.

'Now, for good or ill, I serve you.'

'Well…fuck me,' she replied still breathless, her eyes staring back at what was left of Ahzrukhal. The beautiful crimson trails leading to the floor where a pool of blood had already begun to form. It was another tragic painting of death she had witnessed. She briefly imagined herself in that state after being an evil bitch to Charon. Then she noticed that a keyring was hanging out of the dead ghoul's pocket.

'Is that my first order, Mistress?' he asked.

'What?' she replied, distracted. 'And don't call me Mistress.' She reached for the key.

'How do you wish me to address you?'

'No mistress. By my name?' she asked him, earning a blank look. 'How about Boss?'

'As you wish, Boss,' he replied.

She unlocked the safe with the key and took everything useful from it, including the 2000 caps she just paid for Charon with. With the looting, she felt a bit calmer, a bit saner. Then, turning back to Charon and the other horrified Ghouls who had gathered to watch, she smiled and handed Greta the key. The old bastard wouldn't be needing it anymore.

'I'll be back, with more scrap metal,' she told Winthrop before gathering Dogmeat and headed out of Underworld with Charon close behind.

They were heading home.


	10. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Charon," was on her lips when she opened her eyes. She woke up to Dogmeat bathing her cheek with slobber. It was morning. She remembered how the tall one came to be in her service. Like he said, it really was because of Dogmeat, the handsome dog warming her bed at the moment. She smiled at him and he yipped.

"Hey, buddy. I missed you," she kissed her furry friend. "Have you been a good dog?" He barked, recognising the word 'good' and 'dog' in the same sentence. She laughed.

"Been some time since you did that, Madam," Wadsworth quipped in his electronic cheerfulness. "I assure you. The mutt misses you too."

"I know, Wads." She smiled at her butler. "I missed you too. It feels like I died, went to heaven and God kicked me out." A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "But I am glad to see you and Dogmeat."

"How long will you stay this time, Madam?"

"I don't know. Maybe until he starts eating properly," she replied indicating Dogmeat's lack of meat on his bones. "Where's Charon?" she asked. Strange warmth bubbled in her chest when she said his name. It unsettled her.

"Sir is sitting on the couch mending his boots. Should you require anything, Madam?"

"Not now," she answered absentmindedly, picturing a pouting ghoul poking at his spiked boots. Indeed, it was the sight that greeted her as she walked down the stairs, Dogmeat wobbling after her. Charon lifted her eyes to stare at her and she suddenly felt naked. So much so that she stopped in her tracks. Dogmeat bounded past her to jump on the couch where he proceeded to nap. After a long silence, the ghoul finally took his eyes off her to give the dog a scratch on his head. She turned, and disappeared into kitchen wondering what the hell was wrong with her and the sudden lack of breath. Mac and cheese, mac and cheese. Where the hell was it?

"It's in the locker," his raspy voice answered her. Great. She was muttering aloud. As she made her way to the locker, she was aware that he was staring at her again. Goosebumps crawled all over her skin as she contemplated why he was having this effect on her when she just knew him for a week. Well, since she woke up it had been a week. When she turned, he was facing his boots again, attempting to sew up some holes.

"I remember you," she told him. "Not everything. But I remember how I bought you and you shot Ahz." He grunted in response. "Your contract… was important to you. And now…" her voice trailed as she fingered her undershirt again, knowing that underneath that was the terms of Charon's contract. She understood now the weight it had on Charon and she wished… She wished she had more sense than to keep it with her when the slightest hint of unavoidable danger showed its head. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't give it to you before…whatever happened, happened."

"Boss, there is no need for your apology," he mumbled.

"Yes, there is. The contract was a huge part of you. I should have been more careful with it. I mean, I place it as close as possible to me so that it'd be safe. Instead, now it's on my skin and I cannot pass it on to someone else-"

"It was my fault," he interrupted. "You wanted me to keep the contract but I refused to take it." He turned away. "I disobeyed you, boss." She stood dumb at his confession. This would actually be a good time to ask him about what happened but the clench on her heart tightened. Her instincts knew how to protect her better than she knew. So she continued standing dumb, a box of mac and cheese in her grip.

"What was my first command to you?" she asked instead.

"To fuck you," he replied. "But I didn't obey that either."

"No." She protested, her cheeks colouring. "I had meant that as ...I didn't… I…nevermind."

"You wouldn't be the first employer to ask that of me," he replied easily. Somewhere in his reply was a hint of amusement from seeing her squirm in discomfort. Her cheeks felt warm.

"My first command to you was to call me 'Boss'," she said firmly, knowing that her cheeks were still red. "I didn't want you to call me that actually." She flopped down onto the couch beside the ghoul and her dog. "I wanted you to treat me like an equal but I understand you couldn't do that. I never saw you as an employee but more as an equal who knew everything I didn't about living out here. I wanted to learn from you, almost be like you; as strong, as brave and as patient. You're," she cleared her throat, the strange warmth bubbling under her skin again. "Invaluable in my life. And I thank you. I guess I just wanted to let you know that before it was too late," she finished lamely. Silence stretched.

"You told me that before you went to start the purifier," he said quietly. He lifted his eyes to hers.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

"If that is what you wish, then I will tell you." No. He didn't want to talk about it.


	11. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She had drifted in and out of memories and she was starting to get sick of it. Once again, she woke up to dog breath and a bad headache. While Dogmeat got fatter, she felt like she was losing weight. Wadsworth told her she needed help but she laughed, assuring him she was fine. And she was, for the most part. She slowly ran her palms down her body, feeling her ribs through her skin, feeling her chest rise as she inhaled. It might be the drugs she was taking. There were marks all over arms and now she's moved on to shooting them around her hips, just so there'd be visual balance when she looked at herself naked. She wasn't addicted. Not anymore. It happened three times before but she wasn't addicted now. She was only taking them because anything she ingested was bound to be puked out later.

And she pretty much puked everything out.

"Just until I remember everything," she told herself. She hadn't talked to Charon for days. Sometimes, in the last moments before sleep took over, she'd think she saw him peep in at her, probably wondering if he would carve his contract out of her skin. That was why she put her combat knife on the desk beside her. Sometimes she thought about how much he hated her. Because now he had no chance to kill her like he did to Ahz. Because now, the contract was on her skin. And he wouldn't let her cut it out of her skin. She heard his voice denying it. A spark of something would flash in his eyes, he'd purse his lips and he'd glance at his name on her chest. 'Of course, you hate me. I'm your employer.'

She was dramatic about things sometimes. As she fingered the blade of the knife, she accidentally cut herself. It didn't hurt, but Dogmeat whining at her did. He nuzzled her and barked at her asking why she was being like this.

"I'm tired of watching things die," she whispered to him, patting him weakly. "But everytime I close my eyes I see them. I see Dad." She coughed. "And everytime I leave the house, I want to kill something." That was the truth, really. Her eyes gazed over to her gun collection that stood on the opposite wall. She didn't remember every kill, but enough that they filled her mind. The thing was: she wanted to remember the purifier incident. Somehow, each time she gave in to memories, an image of her father dying would surface. Then it would merge into someone else's face, someone else she killed. It was an exhausting cycle. Once, she let the cycle run its course and at the end of it, there was nothing. It was just a hazy greenish blue with a darkish figure of a man. Then it faded to a blank blackness. That was 3 days ago. She remembered every person she killed.

Now as she gave in to sleep, she was thinking about sweet Sugar Bombs and how she should give them to Murphy soon. Because Barrett liked them. And Murphy liked Barrett. And Barrett liked Murphy.


	12. Flashback 3

Chapter 8.5  
//Flashback//

What a predicament to be in. She stared down the barrel of the gun that Barrett aimed at her face. Charon's hand above her head had a pistol aimed at Barrett's face. She didn't notice it happening at all. And to be caught in the middle of it was quite terrifying. For the first time since she met the scientist she saw how frazzled Murphy was.

'Barre-' Murphy started.

'The ugly smoothskin is keeping a ghoul as a slave,' Barrett spat, smoke coming out his mouth in curls. She risked a glance at his left hand, where a cigarette was trapped between his thumb and forefinger.

'Stand down,' Charon growled low in his throat.

'You let yourself get pulled around by a fucking leash?' Barrett pushed.

'You want some of this?' Charon pushed.

'Murphy?' she whispered, their eyes meeting.

'Alright, kid,' Murphy sighed. 'Barrett, that's enough.'

'What the fuck, Murphy?' He bristled but relaxed a little when Murphy placed a hand on his back.

'I'm sure she has a good reason. Do you, kid?' he asked.

'He's my companion. I bought him from Ahzrukhal,' she replied. 'Who was an evil bastard,' she added as an afterthought. 'You can see the contract. I have it.' She felt the gun bump against her forehead.

'Ahzrukhal's servant?' Barrett asked, tension leaving his voice.

'He's not a fucking servant,' she hissed.

'What happened to Ahzrukhal?' Murphy asked out of pure curiosity.

'Shot.'

'You shot him?'

'Charon did.' Barrett raised an eyebrow. Then he pulled his gun away from her face and shrugged, mumbling something. She relaxed, instructing Charon to do the same. Her blood ran warm again. Slowly. He complied, grumbling. Probably dissatisfied that he didn't get a chance to use the gun. When she turned back to Murphy, the other two ghouls were in a deep conversation of sorts. Barrett gave her a nod and continued inhaling from the cigarette as he left the three of them to go into the office area.

'So, what didja bring me?' Murphy asked, awkwardly. She silently gave him all 5 boxes of Sugar Bombs in return for 150 caps. There were still traces of tension in the room, with Charon cocking his gun behind her. After the transaction, Murphy leant close to her and explained Barrett's passionate outburst. 'He used to be a slave for a group of smoothskins when he was younger. They were horrible to him.' She nodded.

'I understand. Did he know Ahzrukhal?'

'He didn't tell me.'

She put her earnings in her bag and was about to call out to Dogmeat before realising he was back in Megaton where it was safe. She sighed.

'You are going to be okay?' Murphy asked a rare concern evident in his voice.

'Sure I am. Thanks.'

'Don't let the Wastes poison you, kid.'

'Yeah. Like taking Ultrajet,' she teased. Murphy smiled bemused. She chuckled, and then laughed hysterically as Charon looked at her like she was insane.


	13. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Charon," she uttered then laughed loudly when she woke up as the image stayed with her, making Dogmeat prick up his ears at her. Charon gave her a sidelong glance. It surprised her to see him in her room by her side, staring down his nonexistent nose at her. She smiled warmly at him and made space on the bed so he may sit. He sat, without question. It felt almost nostalgic; it reminded her of the times he sat by her in the Citadel. She felt protected. He was shifty-eyed again, sneaking glances at her and finally turning to the floor for life's answers. For some reason, the bubbly warmth spread through her again and she realised she wasn't breathing. She pulled Dogmeat to her just to quell this sudden urge to touch. His skin was like patchwork made up of actual skin, veins and sinewy muscles. Had he lost more skin? His hair… had turned a darker shade. Her hand reached out to touch out of their own will but she wrenched it away from him. Would touching him feel like touching a broken down printing machine about to explode? Like the ones in Hubris Comics. She remembered the feel of hard metal trying to contain a blistering heat of chemical reactions. Would Charon's skin feel like that?

What the fuck? Why was she … Forget it. Forget it. Tempting to touch, really. If only, just to see a shifting of emotions on his face. FORGET IT. He glanced at her.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice sounding weak.

"Brotherhood of Steel. At the bar," he answered. Another shifty glance was targeted at her but this time on his name. She wondered why she hadn't been dressing properly, opting to walk around in her undershirt and shorts, which were her pyjamas all through the day and night. At the back of her mind she knew she just wanted to remind her merc companion that she still had the contract and it was on her skin and that if he wanted it, he could cut it out. On another level, she wondered what he thought about it, actually. What was it like to have your name on someone else? She wanted to think that she belonged to him now as she was branded. What was it like, Charon? To finally own someone?

Wait.

"Brotherhood of Steel?" she asked. He nodded. "What are they doing here?" He grunted.

"I told them to talk to you." She laughed remembering the way he told her to talk to Ahz.

"Do they want to talk to me?"

"Yes, boss."

"Are they drinking?" He nodded. "Were you at the bar?"

"No, boss," he growled.

"You know I don't mind if you go for a drink. I'll be fine." She didn't drink often. She usually gave alcohol to him when they came across some on their travels. Recently, she noticed that he didn't drink so much. The stash in their fridge hadn't been diminishing that she considered donating the drinks to Gob. "Really, if you want to, it's fine." She rolled over, to place sleeping Dogmeat on her bed as she slowly slipped from under the covers and sat beside Charon. "I worry that you get bored when there's nothing to do." He snorted. As she lifted herself off the bed, dizziness grabbed her. Vertigo. In an instant, her companion was by her side, holding her so she wouldn't fall. A gloved hand was on her wrist, the other on her waist.

"Can you stand?" he asked, the low voice rumbling in her ear. She shivered from the warmth and closeness. Not trusting herself, she just nodded. As quickly as his hands appeared, they disappeared, leaving heat on the places he touched. Broken printing machines at the point of explosion; that's what it felt like. She nodded again. Dressing herself, she brushed her hair and made her way downstairs while her ghoul followed quietly.

"Saint 101. What happened to you?" Gunny greeted her affectionately as she took a seat beside him in the bar. She winked at Nova, then Gob and ordered a bottle of purified water. Charon just stood behind her, stoic, like the way he did when he worked for Ahz.

"I've been resting," she answered simply. Giving a friendly smile to Gob, she offered Charon some water but he declined. "What brings you here?"

"I've come to escort you to the project."

"Why?"

"A memorial has been erected for your father." She swallowed a large gulp of water at the reason. "They've given everyone a proper burial." Dad. Her heart squeezed again, a bit more painfully this time. It also took a little longer to subside.

"What's written on the stone?" Her voice broke as she asked the question. She felt the ghost of a palm on her back trying to comfort her.

"Nothing yet. They're waiting for you."

Their group consisted of Gunny, 3 initiates, Charon and her. She recognised the three as part of their previous expedition. This time, she brought fewer items: two rifles and their ammo and a couple of Stimpaks. She wasn't sure if her body could support anymore than that. Charon had watched her take out all the junk in her bag and at times asked 'You don't want grenades?' and 'No mines?' and 'Boss, you're leaving water?' She passed two bottles of purified water to him. During the journey, she took the opportunity to ask Gunny about the purifier incident. He shrugged saying that he had no idea.

"The only ones who were in there were you, Sarah and your lover." She froze. "Sarah's still not awake. Why don't you ask him?" Gunny didn't even realise that she stopped walking until he was metres ahead of her. He turned and his face split into a grin. "What? You didn't think anyone would find out?"

"Gun…" she murmured, still in shock. "What are you talking about?" she asked, slowly enunciating each word as his offhanded remark repeated itself in her mind.

"The wastes ain't going to look at you funny. It's okay." She was stunned at his obvious delight in teasing her about this. "You've been crying for him when you slept. When I say crying, I mean groaning..." he trailed off, the smile of serenity on his face.

"For dad?" she asked in disbelief. She knew what he meant. But that was impossible. The both of them weren't like that. Not at all. Her gaze travelled to his broad back in front of her.

"No. Your ghoul. Charon." At the mention of his name, Charon turned to give them a questioning look. She stared at him, not moving. He frowned, stopping as well. She shook her head at him and his frown deepened as he continued walking only when she did.

"You're kidding, Gunny," she laughed emptily.

"Like I said. No one's going to look at you funny. Why do you think nobody tried to shoot him?" He cleared the throat. "He did good, though. When we found you, he was carrying you out of the rotunda. He was bleeding and he had tears on his face." She kept mum, staring on the ground. "Anyway kid, it's pretty obvious from the way you look at each other. We don't have much hope here in the Wastes but… I guess, even in love, you've given people a right to hope. That's why you're a saint," he trailed off again, a faraway look in his eyes. Charon stared at her oddly. When she slowed her steps, he hurriedly trudged to her and stayed by her side the rest of the way to Project Purity.

Was it hell, Charon? Having to stay by her side as she cried for him, it must be tormenting. Not that… he'd want to do something. Charon wasn't like that. He'd rather cut off every single limb than…okay she didn't know that for sure and she knew he was still human, MAN, rather but… But not being able to do anything to help her as an employee would be tormenting. Maybe that's why DoctorSugarBomb from the Citadel was so relieved when she woke up. She must have had given him hell.

Charon bumped into her, pulling her out of the reverie. She gave him a sidelong glance but he didn't seem to notice. They continued walking before he bumped her again, this time with a growl. She stopped and whirled around, ready to kick his ass if he was turning feral. He was actually staring at her nonchalantly. The eyes flicked over to her chest then to her pip-boy.

"Enemies," he stated. She squinted at her pip-boy and he was right. Red dots were heading towards them. Looking up at him, from under the curtain of pink hair, she told him that calling her name would suffice instead of the physical abuse. He smirked slowly, which halted every nerve in her being. "Sometimes, boss," he growled. "Physical abuse is all you respond too."

"I'd respond to any other physical actions, too," she defended herself, as she slid her rifle into her hands. The smirk aimed at her widened. There was a sudden urge to hit him with the butt of her rifle just to wipe that smirk of his face because it unsettled her. It made the bubbles appear again. She tried to push them away.

"Yes, boss," he said, sounding very… rebellious, even when he was agreeing with her. There was something feral in his eye as he stared at her, cocking his shotgun. Immediately, she turned away so he wouldn't see her blushing, so that she could actually inhale properly unhindered. She alerted Gunny and the others about the incoming attack, the image of her smirking companion ingrained in her mind. The image brought up many other images of a smirking, snarling Charon staring at her. It disconcerted her that she had filed these away somewhere hidden in her mind. What other filing cabinets were in her mind hidden with this one?

She was 'crying for him', was that what Gunny told her? For sure, they weren't lovers. She would remember if something happened, wouldn't she? The filing cabinet of his smirks did not tell her anything. Also, he would do something, at least, that would let her know for sure if such things happened. No, he wouldn't because he was Charon and the fucking contract wouldn't let him. Well, the fucking contract was on her chest now. Does that mean it was still valid?

She shot a raider in the face, shocking herself with her automatic process. Unfeeling. Unthinking. The raider fell, spurting blood from a wasted jaw. She continued shooting at the attackers. There was no smile this time, just action. There were too many memories of unknown people's lives fading from their eyes, so when she fired the shots, she didn't note every single spray of blood, every single distended eye flying out of the sockets, even though her guts wanted to. At least during this journey to meet her father, she'd try to not enjoy killing so much. She peeked under her hair as she reloaded and from the corner of her eyes watched her group mates pick the raiders off like they were glass bottles at a shooting range. In a way, they were fragile like glass bottles, every one of them. If everyone kept bottling things up, they'd eventually crack their glass. Maybe, that's what happened to her and her penchant for murder. If she thought about it that way, she could understand a bit. A little bit.

They stayed the night at the Citadel where the initiates were removed from duty and another three joined them. She watched impassively as Gunny briefed them. He constantly poked them in their chest, aggressively, but they still obeyed his every command. They wanted to. She wondered if she did that to her faithful companion, he'd break her finger instead. Charon had a thing about people touching him. In one of the memories, she recalled patting him on the shoulder for a job well done. He responded by freezing, grabbing that hand and twisting it behind her back. She was so winded, she dropped her weapons. In an instant, he let go, apologies falling from his lips, as he bent down to pick their things off the ground. He had embarrassment then when he observed her under clumps of red hair. She had smiled at him and said it only showed how good he was at what he did. It was an embarrassed smirk that answered her.

She visited Sarah. They were friends by necessity, really. She was also the other one who knew what happened at the purifier. She wanted her to wake. Sarah could fill in the missing pieces. Charon could do it as well.

"But he wouldn't tell me."

"Boss, are you talking to me?" the very ghoul she was thinking about disturbed her thoughts.

"Was I thinking aloud?"

"Yes boss." She heard him change out of his clothes behind her as she stared at the empty wall beside the bed. The chink of metal, the slide of leather, the thud of boots on the floor; they told her he was in his threadbare shirt and his pants. He stopped undressing after that though, opting to flop into the other bed beside her. A soft raspy sigh travelled to her ears. She stopped a shiver threatening to move up her spine. Cold. Goosebumps. She pulled up the blankets but it was too thin to give more warmth. Why she even bothered to get comfortable was beyond her. She knew she wouldn't fall asleep tonight. Her arms felt empty, missing Dogmeat. Another sigh escaped her lips. Shifting, she explored the room with her eyes, taking in its emptiness. There were 3 other unoccupied beds in the room. She had opened the footlockers but they contained nothing of use. She found herself getting out of bed, padding around to test each bed to see if it was warmer, or if the view was better from another bed. Charon just observed her antics, the silent observer he was. With his hands behind his head as he lay down, he was a picture of relaxation, as close to relaxed as he ever could be. Still, the shotgun on his chest somehow completed the picture, even if it marred her definition of relaxed. She snickered.

"Boss," he rasped.

"What is it?"

"Do you need my help?" he asked, shifting his gun off his body.

"For what?" She moved back to her original bed and leaned against the wall.

"I sense that you are cold," he stated. She chuckled, pulling her knees up and hugging herself. His pale eyes focused on her.

"You can't change the weather even if I ask you to." She smiled warmly at him, content that he was around to talk to.

"I could give you my blanket," he offered, already sitting up and pulling out the thin material off the bed.

"Leave it. I don't think I can sleep tonight," she told him, stifling a yawn. He watched her watch him. "You should get some rest, Charon."

"If that is what you wish, I will do so," was his reply.

"Then you will accompany me throughout the night?" she asked, a small smile forming on her lips.

"If that is what you wish… What would you have me do?" He had a smirk on his face when he asked her.

"Talk to me."

"As you wish, Boss."

"Why don't you want your contract?" Charon went stiff at that question. It was silent for a long while before he opened his mouth to answer.

"The contract belongs to my employer. My employer is you."

"I wanted to give it to you at the purifier but you didn't want it. I assumed I wanted to give it to you because I was going to die. If I died without giv-"

"It is my duty to protect you."

"But you cannot protect me forever. The same way you can't change the weather for me."

"If I could, I would," he said stoically. He was avoiding her gaze, now.

"Yes, because you are duty-bound and the contract binds you to obey me." She twirled her hair with her fingers, slightly annoyed.

"My duty is to protect you. But I must say this. I'd do it because I don't like you feeling cold." He sat up and stretched. "My feelings should not matter in what you ask of me. But…In honesty, boss, there are times I obey because of the things I feel." He gave her a meaningful look. It stopped her heart and her annoyance.

"That's the most you've ever spoken to me," she commented, trying to hide the blush she knew was forming. "You should do it more often." Another smirk came her way and she swore she felt warmer. "So, the contract… Do you know that parts of the terms are missing?" He shrugged. "Does that mean it's still valid?"

"I don't know, boss." He sighed.

"I know you'd prefer it to be valid," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Maybe I should really carve it out."

"I will stop you from harming yourself," he warned her.

"But wouldn't it be better if it wasn't a part of my body? Then at least, when I die, I could transfer it to someone else." A lump formed in her throat at the mere thought of losing him. She was going crazy, feeling this deep just by a speculation.

"You asked me why I didn't want the contract." She nodded. He gazed at her in the darkness.

'Will you tell me?"

"I… did. But you don't remember."

She fell asleep, trying to remember the purifier incident. When she woke up, Charon was watching her as he sat on his bed. There were two blankets draped over her.

"You didn't sleep?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"You asked me to accompany you throughout the night." He smirked. She checked her pip-boy to see that it was only 3 am, and that she had only been asleep for 2 hours.

"I call for you when I sleep," she stated, hoping that he would deny but he nodded instead. "Gunny says it's more like groaning." He grunted and refused to meet her eyes. "Charon, have we ever, you know… slept together?"

"No, boss," he answered quickly. "But like I've said you wouldn't be the first employer to ask that of me."

"Did Ahz…?" A dark smile graced his features.

"Yes. Not to him. To other people," he replied in a venom-laced voice.

"I assume you didn't like it."

"He was an evil bastard."

"In the vault, we were supposed to 'procreate' when we reach 21. It sounds very clinical and it probably is but it's just fucking for offspring, really. I do wonder what it's like sometimes. Nova says it's different with someone you love." She wondered why she told him this, or even asked him about this. After stretching her back, she slipped out from under the blankets, feeling the cold soak her bare skin.

"Are you worried about procreating?" he asked.

"I worry about not doing it with someone I love." She sighed. "I guess in some ways, I am still just a kid from the vault. This belief is… wishful thinking." She pulled on her dress and her boots. When she raked her fingers through her hair, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She noted the dark rings around her eyes and the patchiness of her skin, her general unattractiveness. She met his eyes in the reflection and smiled warmly. He seemed to be bothered by something though he didn't show it. As she tiptoed out of the room, she heard Charon dressing himself as well. It may be too early but there were knights walking around as though it were morning. Heading for the pantry, she passed by 2 knights who saluted her. She felt an urge to leave the Citadel. After taking a gulp of water from the sink, she sat down at an unoccupied table and waited for Charon to join her.

Star came instead, surprise evident in her face when she caught sight of her. As she sat down, she commented on her choice of clothing.

"Your dress doesn't provide much defence in the Wastes."

"Dad always wanted me to be more of a lady," In more ways than one, she still was a Vault kid, fresh to the cruel world and holding on to pristine beliefs that pre-war books taught her. Then again, her parents were never meant for a life in the vault. Yet they turned out fine, almost holding the same beliefs she had about humankind. Her? As she watched Charon enter the room and take a seat beside her she realised she probably was never meant for a life in a vault as well. He raised his eyes to her which made her smile at him.

"So, the rumors are true then?" Star asked.

"What rumors?"

"You and him." Star finished her iguana bits sandwich. Charon narrowed his eyes at Star but didn't say a word. Star was hard to read, so she just decided to be honest about it.

"I don't know," was the simple reply. Her ghoul glanced at her. "What would Dad say?" she found herself asking aloud.

"I'm sure your dad would be proud of you no matter what," Star exclaimed. Charon stared hard at her; his face didn't express any emotion. For some reason, that look made her want to physically abuse him in a good way. She ignored the urge and focused on Star, asking after her health and the brotherhood and other things. Conversation with her wasn't so bad except that sometimes Star made her feel less than heroic about her masochistic tendencies. Star was the kind of person that would close a raider's eyes after she shot him dead.

Gunny found them later and she was already exhausted from listening to such purity from Star. Such purity made her feel like killing something. After regrouping, they continued the journey, reaching Rivet City at noon. It was there that they stumbled upon Lucky Harith in a fight with muties.

It was her that shot an eye out of one of the muties and brought the attention upon them. She was trying to save the Brahmin actually and all the armour. Lucky ran and hid behind a tree. The sound of a grenade landing near her spurred her to rush at the mutie master who laughed brutishly at her attempts to shoot him. She returned the laugh as she popped a couple of bullets in his face, noting the way muties never close their mouths. It's as though during the mutation their lips didn't grow as big as their muscles. She hurled a grenade somewhere (she always had bad aim) and ran into the mutie stronghold. It was stupid really. Bloodlust was stupid. And futile. But when she saw a dead captured Wastelander in that stronghold, she just had that need to destroy everything again. She didn't know what happened. There was lots of blood. Hers, she imagined. She remembered cursing at the muties. She remembered Charon shouting at her and she thought that was uncharacteristic of him. Something blinded her for a moment; it might be grenade dust. A sharp pain shot through her skull. A hand grabbed her arm and the last thing she saw were flames of a fire before the world turned black.


	14. Flashback Purifier Incident

Chapter 9.5  
//Flashback//

"So, it's you or me, sweetheart." She watched Sarah say that and saw the way she traced the button on the airlock. Sarah was afraid and it felt strange to see it. "One thing's for sure. Whoever goes in isn't going to come out." To see the Lyons girl scared felt almost surreal. For the greater good, she'd pick herself to go in because Sarah was much too valuable to lose. "How about your bodyguard?"

"No fucking way." The venom in her voice shocked her. It shocked Sarah too, apparently. Her blue eyes widened. "I'm going in. Just wait one moment."

"We don't have time."

"The world can fucking wait, alright," she retorted, shutting Sarah up. In truth, the only reason she cussed at her was because she was afraid. She walked to her bodyguard, stripping her armour, taking out her guns, ammo, pretty much everything. When she reached him, she shoved the items into the sack he carried. He was breathing heavily. She had started crying at the sound of his voice. When she unstrapped her rifle from her back, sobs racked through her body.

"I'm in your service," he reminded her. She nodded. Her hand trembled when she touched the crinkly paper she kept in her undershirt. "Boss. I. Am. In. Your. Service." He said it with an almost frantic kind of force. As she was about to pull the contract out, he stopped her. "If you wish me to, I would –"

"I am giving you your contract," she stated.

"You are my employer. You can ask me to go in. Order me to-"he stopped because it was an order he was giving her. She imagined the 'duty binds him' speech happening in his mind. "Why are you giving me the contract?"

"I can't be your employer if I'm dead."

"If you ask me to do it, you won't be dead." He growled, dropping the sack onto the floor.

"But you will be," she said.

"It is my duty to keep you safe. The contract-"

"Yes. It is the fucking contract that binds you to be nice to me," she hissed, shutting him up. "Charon, just take it alright. I don't have time." In the back of her mind, she felt a tremor in the floor. Behind her, Sarah was yelling at Dr Li through the intercom. Less time now.

"I don't fucking want it," he cursed at her for the first time he had been in her service. She looked up at him, shocked. He was fuming, she knew. He was trembling, like he was about to crack. Some part of her mind revelled in this well-contained imposing strength in front of her. She smiled a sad smile. This was ridiculous; in her last moments with him, they decided to argue for the first time. A small laugh escaped her lips at the absurdity of it all.

"You can…give it to someone of your choice."

"If you are my last employer, so be it," he rasped. "I'd rather not be transferred."

"Charon, I will die," she whispered. He stared at her with his pale blue eyes. This is the closest he let her be in his space that she could see the blueness of his eyes. Maybe the world wasn't so cruel after all. "You are invaluable in my life. And I thank you. But I have to fight my own battles sometimes and this is the last one I can." He made a choking sound in his throat. More than anything at that moment, she wanted to hug him. She turned away, ready to do the deed. Dad would be proud, right? One step towards the glass and she was wrenched back by a firm grip.

"Ask me. Command me," he stuttered hotly into her ear, holding on to her hand so tight it hurt. She winced, but strangely felt safe, feeling his anger close to her.

"Find someone who'll love you as much as I do, alright?" Mustering up all her courage, she dared a kiss against the side of his neck as she pulled away.

As she pushed the airlock button, Sarah saluted her. The radiation hit her in an instant. It wasn't painful; it just gave her a tingling feeling inside out. After a whispered 'Hey Dad', to her father's corpse, she rushed to the machine and punched in the codes. The tingling turned numbing, as though her insides were liquefying. She coughed on instinct as she felt the radiation sicken her. Then there was an explosion and her back hit the glass. Sliding down fast, she was aware that her vision was failing her. A sharp pain shot through her skull. Her Geiger counter was going haywire. Someone was screaming. The room was spinning. She felt sick. She found herself lying down on the ground, watching the world turn a hazy greenish blue as her body succumbed to sickness. The screaming became groaning and she realised she was the one doing it. It was his name she repeated. In the last moments, she saw a darkish figure of a man and she felt someone grab her.

"Boss."


	15. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Charon," she groaned, tightening her grip on his arm. As she opened her eyes, she was relieved to see his pale blue ones staring back at her. Then she grabbed the rifle beside her and shot the mutie behind them in its face. The mutie fell backwards, landing on the ground. The fire she saw was actually caused by her own bad aim. When she had thrown the grenade, she had flung it right into the area she was running towards. Stupid. Good thing she wasn't burnt. Her head hurt, though. The stronghold was in pretty bad shape too, with all muties defeated in a pile in front of her. Such destruction came from a girl, a grenade and her bodyguard. "Well… fuck me," she murmured, impressed.

"Is that an order?" Charon asked. She laughed a clear kind of laugh, acknowledging the fact that she was alive. She was aware that there were tears running down her face, as she slid her palm off him. However, as soon as she did, the urge to hold him came again. The need to touch was much too powerful to ignore this time and she just gave in, burying her face in the crook oh his neck as she sobbed uncontrollably. He froze. Moments later, he responded, by putting his arms around her waist tightly. Maybe he did care a bit more about her than he cared about the contract. Even if he didn't, they were both stuck together till a knife came in between. Far away she heard Gunny's voice calling her and she laughed again, trembling. Finally, she let go, fixing a smile on her face. The warmth stayed with her as she limped out of the stronghold. Gunny was positively glowering at her. She chuckled as she handed him her father's holotape.

"What is this?"

"The message he'd want on his memorial."

"Where are you going, kid?"

"We're going to get patched up," she replied pointing to Rivet City. "Can I come see it tomorrow?"

"I'll get you when it's done," Gunny assured her, then saluted her as they turned to head for Project Purity. She watched them leave, the three initiates getting verbal abuse from their instructor.

"Charon."

"What is it, boss?"

"We should rest up in Rivet City. My head is annoying me," she smirked. "And I remember everything. And I'm branded with your name. So, I belong to you now, you know." She faced him, watching the shift of emotions on his face. She limped a few metres away. "So it's an order only if it's mutual."

She woke up to a clean room aboard Rivet City, finally feeling like herself. She had rested for much too long. The world suddenly felt beautiful to her and she laughed, listening to the sound of her voice. There were too many things to do, so many things to explore and she missed her dog and she should had gotten the haircut she wanted.

"Boss," Charon greeted her. He was keeping watch from a chair in one corner of the room. There was awkwardness in his posture which was uncharacteristic of him. She sat up and leaned against the headboard, making space for him. He followed suit, radiating his warmth beside her. They were silent. She tried to commit the moment to memory, from the dust travelling in the air to the soft breathing of her companion. She felt like she was existing for the first time, present in her own life. She was content. As she contemplated this, Charon bumped her elbow. She faced him. "Physical abuse is really all you respond to," he stated, a smirk forming on his lips.

"I respond to other physical actions too," she defended. The smirk on his face faltered.

"Everything physical from me is close to abuse," he explained, meeting her eyes properly. His words were heavy with meaning and the atmosphere in the room got a bit tenser. He was trembling and so was she. She was afraid but the bubbles were there again, filling her up, making it hard to breathe.

"I have a high tolerance for pain," she whispered. A slow smirk graced his features as he reached out a hand to slowly trace his name on her skin. The fingers felt… ruined and inexplicably hot. They scratched a trail of letters on her and she felt more owned than she ever was. This might be the way Charon felt being bound to his contract.

And she was bound to it as well.


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue

Hey Dad. You like my dress? I got it cleaned up for you. It used to have blood on it, you see.

How's Mum? I put the passage she liked on the headstone. I thought it'd be fitting. Dad, you're the hero you know. They're saying it's me. But really, it's you. I sacrificed myself because it's what you would have done.

I really miss you. I wish you're here so I can tell you I love you. I never said that enough when you're alive. I've never really said that to anyone. I'm starting to, though. And I'm trying hard. It's funny that it's difficult to say it the first time, but the more I say it, it gets easier but then I feel like it's never enough.

I don't know if he loves me. But I do love him. See, I'm slowly getting the hang of it. He's like me, I guess. Except so much stronger. And protective. Very protective. So, on that I think you'll like him. He doesn't have much of a face. But I think he's one of the things in the Wastes that's beautiful.

You know, Dad. You're the only thing I was sure of when I woke up. It was the image of you dying.

I know why I'm alive when I walked in your footsteps in the purifier. It's because I have lived a life not understanding the beauty in humankind. It was wrong, really, because I didn't want to die for the Wastes. I hated it because you' die for it. Yet I did it, knowing that you'd do the same. I confess, though. I like destruction. The world is gorgeous as it burns. The blood. The screaming. But when I woke up and didn't remember anything but destruction, it was painful. I think the reason I'm alive is so that I have a second chance. It's so that I would love this place that I've helped saved. Like you did, I guess. Cause you wanted to save it so much.

Dad. I wish I'm more like you. I wished I told you I love you Dad. I really wish I did.

So now, I'll try to tell that to everyone I love before we all have to make our own sacrifices.

Before it's too late.

Before I forget.


	17. Thank you

Thank you!

Thank you for reading this little piece of work of mine. (Heh, little. Right.)

THANK YOU for the reading & THANK YOU for reviewing. I appreciate the nice comments and the pointers on how I can improve. MUCH APPRECIATED. And so very flattered that this even got fav-ed too. (I actually didn't think I'd even get reviews but omg am I so glad I got some. Puts a spring in my step, yes.)

I usually reply to my reviews but I can't (or I have no idea how to) reply to the anonymous comments. So, I'm thanking y'all here.

Stay awesome people.

And oh. I was actually trying to write a sequel of sorts. Not shaping up properly yet. But it might be getting there. Might be. Yeah.

Cheers. Much love.


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